


A Quiver Full of Arrows

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fills for <b>Olicity</b> stories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Olicity Prompts Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to prompt me! I'm serenityscribbles on tumblr or leave one along with your review.

  
[ ](http://imgur.com/uEfjUch)

Olicity Prompts - happy endings, alternate universes, fusions, crossovers - who knows what you may find within?


	2. Shooting Down the Scavenger - First Meeting AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt given on tumblr by anonymous - Olicity AU Prompt: Felicity and Oliver meet in a coffee house after he overhears he telling a reporter ask her "You work at QC, how do you feel Mr. Queen is dealing with the loss of his parents?" And she responds with "Everyone grieves differently and I think you should leave the man alone to do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will update this randomly when something bites. Please, please feel free to prompt either at serenityscribbles on tumblr or with your review here.

Felicity had seen the news of course. It would have been impossible to miss even if she were merely a citizen of Starling City. Being an employee of Queen Consolidated meant she received an official internal memo and then each rumor as it flew through the QC hallways at warp speed. The fact that her position as one of the best techs in the I.T. department meant she would be bombarded by headlines whenever she connected.

_The Queen’s Gambit founders!_

_Robert and Moira Queen lost at sea – presumed dead!_

_Oliver Queen, heir to family legacy, steps in as CEO of Queen Consolidated!_

Sometimes she wondered at the vulture-like tendencies of the media. Surely there was something else they could report on? 

The barista’s voice rang out. “Large Spice Latte?”

“Mine,” Felicity acknowledged, moving to the counter. She picked up her drink and turned to find a reporter standing between her and the door. Her eyes closed in a long blink and then she moved to sidestep and go around him. Before she could, he stepped up into her personal space. “I’ve been told you work at Queen Consolidated?”

“Yes?” she frowned, one eyebrow going up in question. “And I’m due at work in ten minutes. Please excuse me.” She tried to go around him again.

“I just have a quick question.” He shifted to block her once more. 

Her voice came out dry and disinterested. She wasn’t sure what this was about, but she didn’t intend to get involved if she could avoid it. “Please contact the legal and/or public relations departments.”

“No, but seriously,” he chuckled. Her expression remained serious, but took on a hint of annoyance so he hurried on and asked. “We want to get an opinion outside of the official announcements, so it’s just a quick one. How do you feel Mr. Queen is dealing with the loss of his parents?”

“Do you not have actual news to report on?” she demanded. “You can’t possibly, or you would stop hounding a man during his time of grief. Everyone grieves differently and I think you should leave the man alone to do that.”

“People have a right to know-.”

“The news,” Felicity interrupted. “The loss of the Gambit, the loss of life – that is what people have the right to know. The family members, Oliver Queen and his sister? They have a right to their privacy during their time of grief. The people who keep hounding them for comments or following them to snap pictures or trying to get information from every friend, employee, or neighbor – those people are vultures, scavenging on the pain and suffering of others.” The reporter gaped at her and she rolled her eyes. “You wanted an opinion from me and now you’ve got it.” Her lips curved into a smirk. “Feel free to quote me.” She walked around him and then came to a stop. Turning, she lifted an eyebrow, “Oh, and for the record?” She held up her phone. “I’ve taped this entire little conversation, so do make sure that quote is accurate or you’ll find yourself in some definite hot water.”

He glared, face turning red. “You-!”

“Still recording,” she noted, tipping her head towards the phone.

The reporter stormed past her, brushing roughly past. The coffee sloshed and splashed her hand. 

“Ouch!” She hastened to put the cup down on the counter before lifting her hand to her mouth even as she tucked her phone back into her pocket. Her now free hand reached towards some napkins as she tried to suck the hot liquid off her skin.

“Thank you.”

The simple phrase drew her attention and her eyes slid over to come face to…well not quite face to face – more like face to chest with another man. Her gaze traveled upward and she blinked in surprise as she met a pair of grateful blue eyes. Oliver Queen might not have been the last person she expected to see, but he was definitely in the top five. Felicity froze, still with her hand at her mouth and the other stretched towards the napkins.

“Let me,” he said, his longer reach putting the paper in easy reach. He held out a handful.

“Ah,” she finally managed, color dusting her cheeks as she yanked her hand away from her mouth. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he acknowledged, the hard line of his mouth softening a bit. “I think that’s my line though.”

“For what?” she inquired, brow furrowing. As he arched an eyebrow towards the door, she huffed in amusement. “For the reporter?” His chin tilted in agreement and she shook her head. “You’re welcome, but really – there is no need in that case. I hate the way reporters and paparazzi hover around any kind of tragedy like hyenas.”

“Hyenas?” Now one corner of his mouth twitched upwards, a small movement maybe, but it intrigued her.

“Yeah,” she managed to reply. “They’re scavengers, just like vultures, and guys like that reporter are always so…so…gleeful about picking over someone else’s misfortune.”

“Maybe so,” he replied, that corner twitching again. His gaze, intent and penetrating, seemed to be searching for something as he looked at her. She waited, unsure of what he might be seeking, but not wanting to interrupt. A shadow appeared to lift from his expression after a moment and he gave her a curious look. “He said you worked at QC?”

“In the I.T. department,” she nodded.

“I see.” He held out his hand. “Oliver Queen.”

She reached out to shake it. “Felicity Smoak.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Smoak,” he replied. “You mind if I have some coffee with you and pick your brain about some ideas I have for your department?”

“You mind making sure I don’t get in trouble for being late?” she countered as she glanced at the clock. “Because I am already going to be late.”

He almost smiled. “I think I can arrange that.”

“If you throw in calling me Felicity, then my time is yours.” Her smile turned a little wry. “Not that I’ve got much room to negotiate since it’s your name on my check, but…I’m not fond of the whole Miss Smoak thing when talking shop.”

“Only if you call me Oliver.”

“Deal.”


End file.
